Gears, Cogs, and Other Romantic Devices
by LilyCharlatan
Summary: Steampunk/Sci-fi-ish AU. USUK. A man on the run and an engineer's apprentice happen to cross paths in the oddest of times and influence each other's lives in the oddest of ways.
1. Prologue

_**Prologue**_

* * *

All Alfred knew was pain.

He could hardly see anymore, vision flickering in and out, static and all. Even if he could see, it wouldn't do much; he was currently lying in a useless heap in a pitch dark alleyway, soaking in a puddle of his own life-blood. His limbs were unresponsive, though from the pain or simple brokenness he did not know.

So this was death: lying helpless, nose flat to the ground and overwhelmed, a rising smell of blood intermingling with motor oil.

Alfred closed his eyes rather gently, all things considered, and slowly let himself drift.

A sudden light in front of him.

He smiled.

* * *

Lily's Notes: So this is a prologue. Duh. This originally came from an Imagine Your OTP prompt on Tumblr. It was originally a 'one person saves another' type of simplistic prompt that evolved into this mess of a story. It's a Steampunk AU, so pardon a lack of spot-on Victorian era culture, since the tech in this AU is more on the science-fiction side. And, yes, I know, I need to work on my summary and titling skills.

Also, though it's obvious, Alfred is not dead. Someone helped him out.

All that aside, I should have the first chapter out today, perhaps tomorrow. Until then, you get this tease ;)


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

* * *

Alfred awoke to a dim, cramped room that smelt of heavily of iron, coal, oil and sweat. He could see flames flickering to his left and the air itself seemed to simmer with the heat. That would explain the sweat. The iron and oil were explained as the sharp sound of metal on metal pierced the air and gears began to clunk together into a kind of cacophony that could quickly drive one mad. Unknown contraptions, mangled parts, springs and other unrecognisable pieces lined crowded shelves; a desk in the corner had a swaying pile of what appeared to be blueprints stacked high. The same papers littered the floor, and, upon looking down, Alfred could see some next to him on the table he was on.

Wait-

Table?

Was this a delusion? That would explain why he could see and move, but he found the stained wood of the table to be solid and smooth under his fingers. Not his imagination then; maybe this was the afterlife? If so, God hadn't done a very good job of making heaven- it looked too similar to Alfred's on-earth personal hell to be much of a paradise. And though the air hung heavy and hot and thick, it wasn't unpleasant enough to be considered _suffering_ , so it wasn't hell either. Besides, Alfred hadn't done much of anything to land himself in eternal punishment-

In his opinion, he'd already had more than enough unwarranted _punishment_ to last a long, long time.

Alfred sighed. His thought process was heading in a depressing direction. That wasn't much his style: he liked to stay on the bright side of things, to stay positive. What was good here?

Well, if this wasn't an illusion or the afterlife, then he was alive, right? That was a huge plus.

Another major score- he was healed. However it happened or whoever helped him, he didn't care (much); he was just happy his limbs and eyes were fully functional. There didn't appear to be any permanent damage, perhaps a few scattered scars here and there, but everything seemed to be in working order.

Just to check, he stretched out- a flash of twitching finger here, a mechanical bending of an elbow, a creaking curl of a toe. Everything responded beautifully, considering his previous condition, though a growl from his abdomen signalled everything could work better if it had fuel to do so.

He slid off the table, his body a well-oiled and brilliant machine recently repaired, and moved around all he could in the small space of the workshop.

He felt better than he had in months. Clearly, whoever had picked him up- this place wasn't his own, that was for sure- had known what they were doing, or had known someone who did. They also had to be at least a little considerate; Alfred was sure helping any stranger, most especially someone like him, would be both time-consuming and expensive.

Even knowing that, he kept his senses piqued. All the people who had _"cared"_ about him had been why he was in that alley rather than comfortable in bed at such an hour.

He remained on guard for what seemed like hours, his only companion the clicking of cogs from somewhere outside the door. As time passed, he became less and less cautious. If someone had wanted to turn him in, wouldn't they have done so by now? His stomach agreed- food wasn't in sight, but there could be some _somewhere._

Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. Still mildly on guard, he wandered over to one of the overflowing shelves and picked up a gadget. It shone in the firelight, cold under his hand. Alfred hadn't a clue what is was and began to inspect it.

Naturally, _that_ was the moment the background noise suddenly seemed to spiral to far too high a pitch before disappearing altogether. Startled, he dropped the trinket.

It hit the floor was a resonating clang, and a shout sounded from outside the door. Footsteps began to sound closer and closer to Alfred's room.

 _Shit._

Alfred scrambled around the workshop; surely there was a place to hide or something to defend himself with. He saw the gleam of a pipe and grabbed it, ready to attack if necessary.

The door swung open. Alfred prepared himself to fight, waiting for the strike to come-

It didn't. Even so, the person who had appeared looked _furious._

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

Well. Once again, not quite what Alfred had prepared for.

"Um, I was thinking that maybe you were gonna-"

"I meant with the _machine_ , idiot! The one that you likely ruined, you bumbling oaf! Or are the pretty blue eyes in your thick skull just for show, and you can't see the now broken _mess_ under your foot?"

Oh, _that._

"Oops," Alfred murmured, "Was that yours?"

The man in the doorway shot him a glare that would make even a basilisk flinch, emerald eyes poisonous.

"No, but it was my _master's_ and he'll have my arse if he finds it broken."

"Master? Are you a slave?"

The man blanched, all frustration on his face turning to surprise.

"Good heavens no! I'm just an apprentice, though I wish I wasn't. In my ever-so-kind teacher's words, _everything_ wrong is my fault. It doesn't help he's none too pleased with me already."

"Why?"

"You."

"Me? Why would I-" Alfred blinked. The dark alleyway, the blood, that _light._ "You were the one that helped me?"

"I did, though look where it bloody well got me; not only do I have to deal with an injured idiot, I have to deal with a _clumsy_ idiot who breaks everything and will undoubtedly get me in trouble. I often wonder why I even bother, honestly."

"Why did you bother, anyway?"

An impressive eyebrow shot upwards and the man sniffed and turned up his nose.

"What do you take me for, heartless? Of course I'd help you; you were _bleeding out_ in the middle of a bleeding alley!"

Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but his gut jumped the gun, complaining yet _again_ about his hunger.

The man gave Alfred an exasperated look, and Alfred shrugged and smiled apologetically. The sandy blond –Alfred made a note to try to get his name at some point- groaned, but turned and said

"Alright, come along. You're lucky; I've just finished making my own meal. Believe me when I say I couldn't be buggered to care about you otherwise."

Alfred had a feeling that wasn't quite true but still played along, grinning gratefully and following the man down a narrow hallway. So far, things had turned relatively alright, considering he had nearly died the night before. Though the man he'd met wasn't the friendliest, he was far from the worst Alfred had encountered- he had saved Alfred's life, after all.

Right now, Alfred considered his life to be the best it had ever been, actually.

The man abruptly stopped, causing Alfred to nearly crash into him. He opened a door, and the smell that assaulted Alfred's nostrils made him almost wish his nose didn't work. The man entered, seemingly oblivious to the awful stench, and approached a table covered in nearly unidentifiable masses. Alfred's stomach said it resembled food, but his brain begged that not to be true.

"Well? Come along, it's rude not to sit at a table while you eat, and the food is not getting any warmer."

Was that stuff edible? Alfred couldn't tell. Still, he was starving, and so pulled out a chair, grabbed a plate of what resembled beef, and took a bite. It tasted and felt like ash on Alfred's tongue, but upon looking to the side and seeing his companion's expectant gaze, he reluctantly swallowed. He owed this man his life; surely he could finish this one meal. The man began to eat beside him, and, much to his chagrin, Alfred felt obliged to clear his plate. Damn his hero complex.

By the end, Alfred's stomach ached and he let out a groan. He wasn't sure which was worse: having all his limbs broken or eating that _monstrosity_ again. The man to his side had finished as well, albeit he seemed less pained. He gave Alfred a small smile and stood.

"No one has finished my cooking before! Since you seemed to enjoy it, I'll go fetch dessert."

With that, he wandered through a door and disappeared from view.

Alfred briefly debated whether he would've preferred dying in the alley.

* * *

Lily's Notes: Sorry I took longer than expected! I had a competition yesterday that ended up a lot longer than expected, so I didn't have nearly as much time to write. (This also ended being a lot longer than expected, though).

So, Arthur enters the picture! I can't bring myself to fully tsundere him, so if he ends up too mushy, please tell me. All con crit more than welcome! I'm just starting out so I need all I can get!


End file.
